


Everything I have to Live For

by petit_fantome



Category: Papillon (2018)
Genre: Attempted Sexual Assault, Breastfeeding, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mpreg, Omegaverse, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Violence, alpha!henri, graphic birth, omega!dega
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-09-25 04:07:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17114165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petit_fantome/pseuds/petit_fantome
Summary: Papi is finally released from solitary confinement after two years, only to find out that Dega has given birth to their child on Devil’s Island. Now, Papi is more determined than ever to find a safe haven for his family, away from the tyranny of the warden.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The story starts with Henri's release from solitary confinement. I shortened the time frame to a few years rather than five for reasons. In future chapters, there will be flashback scenes. If mpreg is not for you, then don't read this I guess? Otherwise, I hope you enjoy.

"What were you living for?"

Warden Barrot says it with condescension, intending to gnaw at what skin and bones Papillon has left but the words pass through him with no ill effect for his mind is scattered - everywhere, elsewhere, and nowhere at the same time. The bits and pieces of his years in the prison will take many more years for him to reassemble them into a coherent whole, but they are not gone forever. The warden continues to talk to him as if his authority should be of any importance to him, but it is not. By French law, the warden owns him but the wealthy beta is utterly insignificant to him.

"...cause you're not going to find it where you're going."

Papillon shifts his gaze to the aging man in a moment of awareness of the position he is in, but there's no sense of dread or fear on his face for the warden to feast on. Even in his foggy state, he takes what pleasure he can from the look of disappointment on Barrot's clean-shaven face. It is all so absurd to see him now, the same as ever in his crisp white suit despite all of the blood on his hands after all this time. In all those years, much has been taken from Papillon. Yet, his resolve to stay alive was not one of them, for there were two things he knew that the warden did not.

For one, Louis Dega was his mate.

By some miraculous fate this continues to be hidden from the sadist before him and Papillon thanks the stars for allowing him to protect his mate even from the great distance that has been put between them.

The second being that Dega was alive. 

It was not something confirmed to him by word of mouth. It did not have to be. He could feel it. There was a deep unbreakable yearning within his chest, tethering him to Dega. No matter how much they isolated him, the yearning would not go away. Distance made it hurt, and some nights it really fucking hurt trapped on all sides by the stone walls of his cell. One night in particular, it hurt so badly he thought he might die curled up on the floor. The yearning burned through him like an angry fever and he cried out in pain, desperate to touch his mate. Knowing something was wrong, but he was unable to fix it. Unable to protect the love of his life. It nearly drove him mad.

The pain ebbed steadily over a few days until it settled into a dull nagging ache that never really went away. No food or water would relieve the yearning, but it was something he could hold onto. A certainty that his mate was alive. He was safe.

Oh, that beautiful man would be the death of him, Papillon thought, but for now that pain - just below his butterfly tattoo - was the only sign of hope that he could rely on in his darkest moments of despair trapped in a cell for defying the warden's authority. For refusing to completely break.

"Devil's Island," the warden says with smug authority, his cigar laden breath annoying Papillon's sensitive nose before he turns from him. "Take him away."

The prison guards grip Papillon's thin arms and drag him forward towards the exit where they put him on a boat straight away, headed for the island with no break for food or water. It does not matter. A few more hours of starvation is nothing to him if it means he could fill himself sufficiently with one look at his mate. His beautiful mate. Just then a flutter underneath his skin makes itself known as if his tattoo could take flight and bring him into Dega's waiting arms in an instant.

A smile, barely visible under his graying scruff, threatens to break into a full grin but he wont risk it this close to the warden's watchful eye. He will give the bastard the satisfaction of watching him leave in chains to be cast out onto a rock in the middle of the goddamn ocean, another wretched criminal condemned by his righteous hand to go brag about with the wealthy elite tourists he invites to the prison, but soon - Papillon knew for certain - he would have his mate at his side again. Then he could escape this place for good. 

The flutter hastens in his chest, quelling the aching in his bones and renewing him with vigor with each step he takes away from his cell. Oh yes, Louis Dega, his mate and lover for the past seven years was alive.

And, Louis Dega was somewhere on that god-forsaken island.

 

* * *

 

Devil's Island is a rock in the middle of the ocean, covered in overgrowth and ruins.

It does not look like a proper place for an omega to be surrounded by prisoners without the protection of his mate. Papillon takes comfort in knowing that the vast majority of those imprisoned here are either too old, too broken, or both, to be of any real trouble for Dega. The real trouble lies in the abuses the guards can dish out, but they had come to believe that the island was cursed after one too many of them came down with illness. There was little reason for superstition given the unclean conditions of the prison, but nonetheless they did not make a habit of staying around long after dark, leaving the prisoners to fend for themselves. 

The very second Papillon steps into the center of the prison ruins, he is approached from all sides by men of various age and status. They size him up, their chins and noses upturned, only they back away with grunts and whimpers from the scent Papillon gives off. No matter how much the guards tried to beat it out of him, Papillon never lost his touch. As an alpha, he is a formidable seed who has subdued many others in his efforts to protect his mate. He just hopes that it was enough to protect Dega from miles away.

The fluttering in his chest increases in intensity. He turns his head, searching the ruins, the fluttering coming on faster and faster. The prisoners stare at him, and he growls sending them scrambling for their crevices and holes in the walls of the ruins to watch from a safe distance. Panic threatens to overcome him, but a soft and gentle voice stops it altogether.  

"I have been waiting for you, you dirty son of a bitch."

Papillon's eyes widen in a mix of relief and yearning - to protect his mate, to embrace his mate, to feel the inside of his mate, and every emotion within him fights to control him to the point where all he can do is stand and stare at Dega. Dega lowers his gaze to the ground ever so slightly to present his neck just so, for Papillon to take in his scent. Papillon brings a hand around Dega's jaw so that he may bury himself into Dega's neck and he inhales just above the scar on the skin there, a bite - the result of their mating a few years prior to their final arrest. 

Fuck, it feels so deliciously good. For years he had been parched for water in his tiny cell, but this - drinking in Dega's scent - was enough to sustain him for years and years to come. Dega is wonderfully sweet like honey and he pulls his body closer to his own, slipping his free hand into Dega's shirt to explore the lines of his chest. Papillon kisses his jawline, glaring at the men in their holes as he does so to make a point. To say Dega is his and his alone.

"Papi," Dega moans softly, "Papi, my love, you must calm yourself."

Papillon barely registers the request, finding Dega's nipple below his shirt and rubbing against it with his thumb as he continues to kiss his face. This causes Dega to gasp sharply, and push Papillon away from him. He appears hurt and dejected by the action, but Dega fixes him with a serious look.

"Now, you cannot do that here. Not now," Dega says, changing his tone. It's more forceful. Direct. "Not here, my love. There will be more time for that later."  

Dega turns from him to walk up a stone path leading to a small room in the ruins.

"Come. I want you to meet someone."

Someone. Papillon is curious, but stays fixed in his place at the center of the courtyard staring at his mate as he walks away. 

Dega is incredibly beautiful and incredibly worn all at the same time. His hair is wild and his clothes, unkempt. It was much different from what Papillon was used to, given how even in the worst conditions Dega tried to hold onto any bit of neatness and cleanliness he could. Now, his movements are slow and careful, digging his hand into his hip to cope with the pain he must be feeling, but it is to no avail, as he limps every few steps.

"Come."

Dega turns to him again, nodding his head so passively, so gently, towards the path that it makes Papillon's heart lurch and he finds himself stepping forwards.

His excitement over seeing Dega again turns swiftly into anxiety, and he is flooded with memories with each step forward that he takes. He still can't seem to put them all together with his mind cycling through them so quickly. Dega's broken leg. There's blood in the boat. Sweat forming on Dega's forehead as he grew sick with heat. There's so much blood filling up the damn boat. Dega thrashing in agony with a stick wedged between his teeth while a nurse sets his broken leg. The knife in Dega's shaking hands. Dega's heat growing stronger, driving Papillon wild. Celier sinking into the ocean. Rutting into Dega for hours, taking him and filling him over and over. Oh, Louis. The gunfire. Louis. Blood. _Louis_.

"Yes," Dega calls from the end of the path, breaking Papillon out of his reverie. He had not realized he let the name audibly slip from his lips.

"It's okay, my love." Sensing his anxiety, Dega comes back to take him by the hand and pull him into the small room.

Papillon's mind and body cannot seem to cooperate in unison no matter how hard he tries. While in confinement, he had separated his physical agony from his mind and his mental anguish from his body just enough to keep living for this very moment. Now, he feels utterly useless, unable to align his deep yearning for his mate with his will to move and his will to move with the words he wanted so desperately to say to him. He focuses on the one thing he can control and that is his love for his mate, but looking at the delicate man before him begins to elicit tears from the corners of his eyes. Dega's body looked to be no stranger to abuse and hardship. He sniffs and looks away from Dega, not wanting to show any sign of weakness. Being unable to protect his mate was just one more humiliation bestowed upon him by the warden, albeit unknowingly, and the thought of being away physically from Dega for one more minute is enough to fill him with hate.

His muscles stiffen and he clenches his teeth. He fixes his gaze on the fire-pit in the corner of the room so as not to misdirect his anger and accidentally force his mate into submission out of fear, but Dega places a hand softly on his shoulder, unafraid, his shirt sleeve falling to reveal his thin wrists as he does so.

"Hush, now. You will not want to scare him."

Him? Papillon's brows knit in confusion. Dega's scent washes over him again, putting him at ease. A little whimper reaches his ear, drawing his attention to a makeshift bed on the other side of the room. Upon the bed sits a small child, a toddler with brown skin and honey colored curls wrapped in a sleeping gown cut from an old prison uniform. His wide green eyes brim with tears, and Dega approaches the child with the calm and care of a mother. He lifts the child lovingly into his arms, and kisses the babe's cheek.

"Henri," Dega smiles at him, fixing a lock of his hair behind his ear, "say hello to papa."

_Henri._

"Mine?" Papillon starts in disbelief pointing at himself, not for lack of faith in his mate's fidelity, but for lack of faith in any hope at all. The world they were forced into does not allow for things like this to happen. He prays Dega does not take offense to his question, and he doesn't.

"Yours."

"My god," Papillon cries, holding his arms out, "My god. Can I?"

"Yes," Dega nods, handing over Henri. Papillon holds Henri to his chest and leans his forehead against the child's curls. Henri grabs him by the chin with pudgy little hands, and Papillon completely breaks.

"Mine," He sobs against the babe's forehead, "my son."

Dega nods again, "our son, my love."

"Our son!" Henri holds the child closer to his chest as he brings an arm around Dega to pull him into his embrace.

"My love," He sobs harder, but happily "my love!"

 

* * *

 

Papillon wakes during the night to find Dega asleep in his arms, the babe - their son, resting between them. He cannot sleep, but he is content to feel the warmth of his family safe in his arms. Despite this comfort, his body is restless and eager to move. His instinct to protect his family is driving him wild, but he tries to lay still so as not to wake them. He settles for scanning the room, noting many charcoal drawings and stone etchings cluttering the walls of the small room - drawings of ships and sails, animals and plants, - drawings, he noted, even of himself.

'Papa' it says, above a charcoal drawing of himself, his butterfly tattoo emphasized wonderfully along the chest. Papillon squeezes Dega's shoulder appreciatively, and Dega cuddles in closer to his side without waking. The contentment on Dega's face and the soft snores coming from between them reminds him that his mate and his son are safe.

For now.

He closes his eyes and falls back asleep.

In the morning, Papillon wakes empty handed. A panic bursts through him, and he searches the room frantically for his mate and child only to find nothing but a few crackling embers on the fire. He dashes down the hallway to the courtyard.

"Louis!" He shouts, causing the other prisoners to tremble and flee.

Clucking chickens and toddler giggles break him from his panic. Papillon follows the sound to a vegetable garden at the back of the ruins. There, Dega pulls string beans and eggplants from their stems and drops them into a basket made of sticks and grasses. He has their son wrapped in a burlap sling around his shoulder, and he sighs deeply. The effort he expends from lifting their child while doing his chores makes him visibly winded.

"Good morning, papa," Dega smiles at him.

"Baba!" Henri giggles and waves towards his own face, which makes it all the more endearing to Papillon.

"Morning, my loves," Papillon sighs. He kisses Dega's mouth chastely, before placing a kiss upon Henri's mass of curls.

"Let me take this." Papillon lifts the basket of vegetables from the ground. "Tell me what you need."

Dega sways with Henri in the burlap sling and plays with Henri's hands to the child's delight while Papillon picks out their meal. After looking over his selection, Dega nods his approval and they return to their small quarters to prepare their meals for the day.

Later, Papillon sits by the fire-pit stirring a pot of simmering vegetables. Across the room, Dega removes his shirt and places their son against his chest. The child begins to suck at his nipple and Dega leans back into the wall with a sigh, trying to relax.

Papillon is mesmerized by the whole thing.

"He still feeds from you." He thinks out loud. It cements in his mind the fact that Dega carried their son inside of him, living on this rock while he was stuck in his cell. He thinks back to the time he felt like he was dying and comes to realize that Dega must have endured a lot to bring their child into this world.

"Yes, it would seem your son is often hungry."

"Oh, he's my son now? What happened to our son?" Papillon teases.

Dega laughs. "Let's see you with sore nipples, and then we'll talk."

The two smile at each other in genuine adoration. Then, silence passes between them. Henri falls asleep against Dega's chest, as he rubs his back.

"Louis," Papillon stirs the pot of vegetables. "There is so much I want to say to you."

"I know, my love, but first you must eat."

 

* * *

 

Henri is curled up at the bottom of their makeshift bed, a burlap blanket over him to keep him warm from the cool night breeze.

Dega sits against Papillon's chest, watching his son - their son - snore softly. Papillon brings his hands underneath his mate's shirt again to touch his flat belly, amazed that their baby grew inside. He strokes the skin there tenderly.

"What was it like?"

"What, Papi?" Dega leans further into him and Papillon's fingers drum out little patterns on Dega's stomach.

"In here."

Dega takes Papillon's hand into his own, moving it downward towards the waistband of his pants. The trail of hair from Dega's belly button to his pubic bone brush up against his fingers, arousing him. He quickly tries to suppress it, not wanting to take Dega right then and there while their child sleeps merely a foot away. Dega smiles impishly nonetheless. 

"You mean... in here." He presses Papillon's hand into the skin right below his waistband. 

"Ah, yes."

"I will not lie, carrying him was not fucking easy," Dega looks down at his sleeping son again, then shifts to look Papillon right in the eyes. "...but you will find that the world is not as cruel as you may think. All things considered, this is not the worst place I have been. The men do not touch me or look at me the wrong way. We can grow our own food. We can do most anything without the guards looming over our shoulders at every second of the day. I have managed thus far."

With that, Papillon worries that his mate has grown too fond of this place. For one who struggled so hard to adapt to the prison when they first arrived, Dega has adapted too well here, which might complicate their ability to leave.

"Louis, sweetheart, this is no place to raise our son."

"I know."

Papillon sighs inwardly. A small relief that Dega agrees.

"We need to get out of here."

"So, my love - what do you propose we do?"

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dega worries about what Papillon may be planning, and his insecurities threaten to overwhelm him. Papillon bonds with his son and reassures his mate of his worth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided that it would be important to give Dega some perspective in this chapter, so most of it is about him. There are some graphic references to childhood trauma and Henri's birth. Read at your own discretion.

The morning finds Dega and Papillon discussing, no - arguing - about the intricacies of Devil's Island, the logistics of hiding a baby on the island, and the manner in which they could possibly escape the great rock in the middle of the ocean, all of which seems to distress Dega to no end especially given Papillon's complete lack of self-preservation at the moment.

"Have you lost your goddamn mind?" Dega yells. "You cannot simply jump off a cliff into the goddamn ocean to go get help!"

Henri whines from his seat on the floor, lifting his arms to say "pick me up," and Dega promptly lifts him into his arms, pulling a piece of hay from his mouth. Their son sticks his tongue out as Dega does so, getting spit all over his chin that Dega has to wipe away with his sleeve. Then, Henri begins to babble - some words intelligible like "na na" (banana) and "ba ba" (papa) which Dega translates to mean "Papa is bananas for thinking throwing himself off a cliff is a good fucking idea," but most of it is just baby nonsense that neither Dega nor Papillon has figured out yet. Henri reaches up to grab Dega's glasses, but Dega stops him from pulling them down his face, grabbing his tiny hand and kissing it to calm himself more than to calm Henri.

"It was the first thing that came to mind," Papillon says and Dega scoffs. Of course, he would end up mating with the one alpha whose impulses would drive him to suicide. "It does not mean I will actually try it." Papillon reassures him, but he eyes him with a look of distrust anyways. "Look, we need to come up with something. We cannot stay here forever."

"You speak as if I do not know that," Dega retorts, pacing anxiously with Henri who has contented himself to play with Dega's face.

"Does the warden know about the baby?"

"Of course not!" Dega shouts, holding Henri protectively to his chest, irritated at the thought of that horrible monster knowing anything about his son. Henri dives into his chest, hugging Dega's neck. "He does not check in with us. We are practically dead to him, here." Henri continues to babble incessantly and pulls on Dega's hair, which makes him wince only adding to his irritation. He decides that it is best that he did not hold his child in his current state.

"Here, take him." It is a command rather than a request. If Papillon was a weaker more insecure alpha, the very act of his omega mate ordering him around would have him growling in an instant for Dega to submit to him. Papillon is not that man. He picks up his son from his mate's arms without fuss, and bounces him in his arms to quiet him. He is better than his pride.

"Who does know?" Papillon asks, making a silly face at Henri to entertain him. The baby giggles and settles into his arms.

"I must confess," Dega huffs, "every man imprisoned on this island knows about the baby."

"Is that not dangerous?" Papillon's brows furrow, concern clearly painted on his face. He has yet to meet another Celier or, he shudders, Tribouillard, but he worries nonetheless. "Louis, we are surrounded by lawless men in the middle of fucking nowhere -"

"What was I supposed to do, Papi?" Dega cuts him off. "After a while, pregnancy becomes a _very_ difficult thing to hide!" 

"Watch yourself, darling." Papillon nods at their son, "I'm just trying to protect you. The both of you. That's all I want to do. That is all I _ever_ want to do."

"Look around you, Papi!" Dega wildly gestures to the ruins around them. "These men are tired, a-and they are suffering! They are not loyal to that fucking warden! They see our child - they see our son, and he is like a flower growing amongst the weeds," Dega laughs pathetically. "No one has any desire to hurt him when he is the only joyful thing in this god-forsaken place."

"I believe you, my love. I just -"

"Then why do you continue to question me?!" Dega raises his voice, then brings a shaky hand to his mouth realizing what he had just done. He walks a fine line between arguing with his mate and challenging his alpha.

"Louis..." Papillon lowers his own voice in warning, making Dega nervous. Dega lowers his gaze to the ground in submission, fearful of what may come next and preparing for impact, but no such thing happens. Papillon's expression softens.

"If I am going to safely get us off of this island, I need to know what I - what we - are up against. That is all, my love."

"Well, there are too many uncertainties right now, Papi - I," Dega says frantically, tearing up, "what if I go into heat again?" The last time he was in heat was the last time they ever tried to escape. It was bad, so terribly distracting, that Celier wanted to murder him. He almost got Papillon killed. The only things keeping him from going into heat now were the distance between his mate which was no longer the case, a small supply of contraband suppressants that he would soon have to take again, and the fact that he was still nursing his son which was becoming less and less as Henri ate more and more solid foods.

Dega shakes his head, a few tears dripping down his face.

"I could put all of us in danger," Dega sobs, covering his face with the palms of his hands, embarrassed by his weakness.

"Then we find a way to control it, my love," Papillon says tenderly.

"No," Dega shakes his head again, having much less faith in himself than Papillon. He storms out of their small room as fast as he can, despite his limp. "I cannot."

Papillon sighs and Henri begins to whine, arching his back to fall out from his papa's grasp. "Na! Na!" He yells, and Papillon swears under his breath, unsure of what to do with his son. He walks out into the courtyard with his child, wary of the guards that could be hanging around, but no one in uniform seems to be there. Henri continues to yell "Na! Na! Na!" and Papillon shushes him desperately. "Goddamn it, you have to be quiet!" He swears, and his command has the opposite effect on his obstinate son. "Na!"

"He's hungry, you fool," says an old man sitting on some stone steps in the courtyard. He hands Papillon a banana. "Here, mash this up for him. Don't give it to him all at once. Be patient with him."

 

* * *

 

Dega presents as an omega for the first time at the age of fourteen.

He wakes with a fever and slick dripping between his legs, and he is much too young to understand any of it. He reaches down to feel the slick pooling onto his sheets, confirming his worst fears. He stands himself up on shaking legs, unsure of what to do. He does the only thing he can think of, which is to wake his parents, but waking them is a mistake. There is nothing that would make his father more ashamed than to find out his oldest son is an omega.

He knocks on the door of his parents' bedroom several times and before he can utter a word, his father swings the door open and grabs him by the wrist to stop his knocking only to find his hand covered in slick. "What is _this_?"

"I'm sorry, I-I don't-" Dega opens and closes his mouth to explain, but the words that he wants to say will not come out. He sees the look on his father's face, and he knows he _knows_ what it is. His father tightens his grip, making Dega all the more distressed. He cries "Please, father. You're hurting me!" but the man does not relent. His mother sits up in bed asking what the matter is which is met with a demand for her to "shut up."

"Have you been pleasuring yourself, boy?" The man shouts. Dega shakes his head, crying. "No, I-"   

"This is not what I expect from you," his father grits his teeth, jerking Dega's body back and forth violently.

"My dear, you're frightening him!" his mother pleads. The shaking in Dega's legs worsen, and his father throws him to the floor.

"I said shut up, woman!" The man's growl backs his mother into a corner. "I will not have this whore ruining our family's good name!"

"It is not his fault," she cries, "he cannot control it!"

"He can control it!" His voice booms and he picks Dega up by the ankle, dragging his body down the hallway. Dega sobs "I'm sorry" over and over. His mother chases after them, her nightgown flowing behind her, but there is not much she can do. His father throws him into his room, locking the door behind him. Dega lays on the floor sobbing, clawing at the door. His father shouts from the other side. " - and he will control it!"

The next morning, his mother calls for a doctor to visit the house while his father is away. She wipes sweat away from his forehead, as the doctor inspects him. He explains to Dega what it all means. How being an omega makes him subject to growing sick with heat, how being in heat subjects him to being taken by an alpha and how being taken by an alpha makes him subject to being mated and how if he were mated it would be his duty to take care of his alpha and how if he did not want this to happen then he would need to learn how to control himself. The doctor shows him how to take suppressants, and he takes one to calm his current heat. 

The whole thing humiliates him.

 

* * *

 

He always knew it was a possibility, but he never thought it would actually happen to him. That is the most difficult part, he thinks, about getting pregnant and giving birth.

The pain, of course, is a lot. However, through the whirlwind that is labor, it was difficult to imagine that by the end of it the baby that was growing inside of him for a few months shy of a year would be outside of him. _That_ , he did not know how to cope with. 

The pain grips his belly, his muscles contracting painfully in a way that radiates to his spine. He tries to control the noises he is making by biting into his shoulder. Doing so muffles his screams, but his teeth break the skin. He barely registers it, only letting go when the copper taste of blood reaches his tongue.

"Now, now," an old man sits with him, gently stroking his hair. "You wont want to do that, son."

The man is a beta, tanned with wrinkles and salt and pepper hair, but strong and sharp for his age. He is calm and patient with Dega, but firm and authoritative to the men who gather around the laboring omega's room. Had the pain not been so severe, Dega would be stressed to no end by their presence. His discomfort with his own body over the past couple months being put on display on a daily basis as a sign of his weakness - his submissiveness - was already overwhelming him up until this point. The old man barks out orders like a ship captain to get them all to go away and make themselves useful in the process.

"Go get the doctor, he should be in his tent. Tell him the baby is coming" "You, go with him. Carry as many clean linens as you can. You should find them in the tent, too" "You, boil water. A lot of it!" "You! Go help him!" "Go!"

The men scatter on command, and the old man turns his attention back to Dega who is screaming painfully through his teeth - his jaw clamped shut as if afflicted with lockjaw. "Listen to me," the old man says. "You're gonna do something most of the people on this island can't, and I'm not gonna lie to ya but it's gonna hurt like hell." He strokes Dega's back in the process. "I know you're trying to act like you're not hurtin' real bad right now, but I'm gonna give you a word of advice and I expect you to follow it."

Dega glares at him through the pain, his lips trembling. What would he know? He's not like him. None of them are like him. None of them will ever have to do this.    

"Stop it," the man says. "For the good of you and that little baby in there, stop acting like you're not doing one of the most difficult things you could ever do on this earth."

"I don't want to be weak," Dega sobs through his teeth. "I have to-" he pants, finding it difficult to breathe and control his emotions at the same time, "I have to control myself. I can't-"

"No." The old man shakes his head and wipes the sweat from Dega's forehead with his sleeve. "Let it go, son. It's okay."

Dega's body relaxes for a moment, the old man's gentle voice giving him permission to do so.

"Thank you," he says, squeezing the old man's hand. The old man squeezes back. "Oh, you're welcome son."

On the next contraction, Dega screams so hard he blacks out from the pain. He comes to, hearing hurried voices in the background.

"How is he?"

"He's in a lot of pain. Passed out on that last contraction."

Dega blinks, trying to focus. The doctor grabs his wrist, checking his pulse.

"When did the labor start?"

"We found him out in the garden at dusk. Labor started right about then."

"Any idea how far apart the contractions have been."

"They been gettin' closer and closer, I know that."

"Ah!" Dega arches his back, pushing his distended belly forward. He clamps his mouth shut again on impulse.

"Breathe, Louis," the doctor says, reaching between his legs to check on the progress of his labor, "in and out, in and out." The old man takes Dega's hand, breathing with him, in and out. His breath blows on Dega's cheek reminding him to do the same.

"I think he's ready, help me get him up?" the doctor asks, and the old man nods.

"Alright, Louis. We are going to move you," the doctor says. Dega can barely process it, but nods anyways. "I'm going to have you get on your knees, okay? Mr-"

"Oscar," the old man says.

"Right, Oscar. He's going to support your weight. You lean right up against him. I'll be right behind you to catch the baby. We're going to let gravity do its work."

Dega is positioned on his knees with the help of the doctor and the old man, Oscar. The position sends shooting pain to his bad leg, but it also relieves the pressure on his hips. He leans into Oscar's chest, closing his eyes and moaning, his hands gripping his stomach. The doctor gives him the go-ahead to push, and he does. He pushes and he pushes with everything he has, and Oscar grips his arms to keep him upright when his legs threaten to give out. The doctor tells Dega to bring his hands underneath him, and he does. He does everything they tell him to, focusing on their words to block out the pain.

His hands touch the baby's head as it crowns. The sensation feels so foreign to him. This is his child. The baby he had been growing inside of him for months and months was about to leave his body.

"Almost," the doctor says and it takes a few more pushes for the baby's entire body to leave him.

"My god," Dega cries, holding the baby in his hands afraid to move. "Oh, my god."

 

* * *

 

“You know, you are more afraid of yourself than anyone else.”

Papillon finds Dega sitting in the grass outside the ruins, staring into the ocean underneath the night sky. Dega looks away from him, feeling guilty for abandoning him and their son. In an effort to comfort him, Papillon takes his place beside his mate and rubs his back affectionately. He kisses Dega's neck softly, hoping to draw him near. He enjoys his scent, even though Dega will not look at him. There was not much about Dega's body that he did not enjoy. It was difficult for Dega to feel the same way. He spent many years trying to control his body, and much of the time he could not stop his body from doing what he did not want it to do or from not doing what he wanted it to do. All he could ever manage to do was put Papillon at risk and now that they had a child, he put him at risk too.

"It is my greatest desire to protect you from most anything," Papillon says, kissing his jaw, making his way towards Dega's lips. He kisses Dega's mouth softly, "but I cannot protect you from yourself, my love."

"Where is Henri?" Dega says in between kisses, his face near emotionless, worn out from the stress. Papillon brings his hand around Dega's neck to pull him in, deepening the kiss. Dega allows himself the pleasure, leaning into it - a moment of weakness - before pushing his mate away. "Where is he, Papi?"

"Henri is asleep."

Dega moves to get up to check on his son, but Papillon swiftly pushes him onto his back, holding his wrists above his head.

"Relax," Papillon commands, confusing Dega. How could he? Their son was alone. He had read once that babies could just stop breathing in their sleep. He could not have that. He could not imagine leaving his child alone for too long, asleep. What if he never woke up again? Yet, his body struggles to resist his mate's commands. The only thing he can do is trust his mate, and his body goes limp in Papillon's hands with a huff of frustration.

"Henri and I have had an interesting day together," Papillon muses. "Turns out quite a few people love him."

"I told you-"

"Shh.." Papillon kisses his mouth again.

"You left him alone."

"No," Papillon breathes against his lips. "No, he's with grampa. He told me to tell you that - said you'd know what he meant."

"Oh, for fuck's sake" Dega sighs in relief, "why did you not tell me sooner?"

Papillon leans down to whisper in Dega's ear, "You need to relax. Let me take care of you."

His alpha's tone of voice never fails to arouse him. Dega finds himself getting slick between his legs, and he instinctively allows them to fall open for Papillon. They kiss again, this time more slowly to savor the connection, Dega opening his mouth to allow their mouths to close together. He breathes into it, taking in Papillon's strong scent, unaware until that moment of just how much he had missed the way his alpha tasted on his tongue. They separate just enough for Dega to pull his shirt over his head, tossing it to the ground. Papillon dips into Dega's neck, sucking and nipping at the scar there and Dega throws his head back. Pressure grows low in Dega's belly, and he rushes to pull his pants down as well.

Dega lies before his alpha completely naked and vulnerable, his chest rising and falling in anticipation, unsure of what his mate will do to him next but eager to please his mate with his body. To do his duty as his omega. Papillon savors the look on his face for a moment, Dega's wide eyes shining in the darkness and pouty lips panting. He lowers himself to lay himself between Dega's legs, making eye contact for as long as he can and lifting Dega's hips up and hoisting his thighs onto his shoulders to access his hole, dripping with slick. 

"Oh, fuck," Dega cries breathlessly in shock, as his mate begins to work him open with his tongue, Papillon's scruff brushing up against his thighs. He throws his head back again, pulling Papillon's hair as his tongue dips inside of him. His mate moans into his skin as he grabs his hair, vibrating against his opening, and Papillon has to hold Dega's hips in place to keep him from squirming too much. Dega's thighs threaten to close around him, and it takes everything in Dega's willpower not to choke him out.

Dega gets closer and closer to his release as Papillon works him, losing himself in the sensations his mate is giving him. All he can see are the stars above them, and all he can feel is Papillon's tongue on him, in him, pleasuring him. He opens his mouth to scream, but no sound comes out as he comes all over his stomach. Moments later, Papillon crawls up his body, licking his lips and wiping slick from his chin. He rolls over onto the grass next to him. The both of them work to catch their breath, looking up at the stars together. Papillon pulls Dega's naked body to his side, laughing at Dega's still stunned expression.

"You goddamn filthy bastard," Dega punches his arm, completely undone.

 

* * *

 

"Does anyone on the mainland know about Henri?" Papillon asks, stroking Dega's arm. "I'm not trying to upset you. I just need to know where everyone stands."

A moment of silence. Papillon looks down to see if Dega is asleep. He is not.

"The doctor," Dega says after a beat.

"Guibert?"

"Yes," Dega confirms. The same man who treated Papillon after his first round in solitary.

"Can we trust him?"

Dega turns his naked body further into Papillon's side, resting his arm across the alpha's chest. He breathes in Papillon's scent, soothing himself on it.

"When they took us from the convent, I was quite unwell," Dega begins, "I could not keep any food down. I felt weak - but the warden chose to make an example out of me. He had me tied to a post in the prison yard. He ordered his men to whip me until I blacked out."

Papillon feels the scars on Dega's back, and pulls Dega even closer. He kisses him on the forehead, trying not to let his anger get the best of him when his mate was already vulnerable.

"I came to in the clinic. The doctor confirmed that I was with child. He was the one to convince the warden to transfer me here, a punishment for my disobedience," Dega smirks. "Ironic, considering it is much safer here for a pregnant omega than it is on the mainland. Here, I could hide from the warden. He also convinced the warden to set up a small clinic here, on the island. That it would be a cost-effective way to manage disease. The warden is terrified of disease.”

Papillon nodded. It was not an irrational fear to have. Prisoners frequently got sick from the poor conditions and there were numerous leper communities surrounding the prison.

“The warden agreed. Doctor Guibert visits once per month, staying a day or two each time in a tent set up outside of the ruins. He was here when I gave birth to Henri. He has helped me thus far. You can take from that what you will, but I trust him." 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papillon grows restless on the island, and reflects on his relationship with his mate over the course of his imprisonment. He realizes that he must contend with his impulses if he wants to protect his mate and child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me thus far! I've been on vacation, so it's been relatively easy for me to update. After the new year it might take me more time to update, so please be patient with me.

Papillon kneels in the center of the prison yard. Looking around him, he finds that he is surrounded on all sides by men in prison uniforms. They look feral. Their eyes trained in front of them like starving dogs being taunted by a scrap of meat. Except, they're not hungry for food. They're hungry for pleasure. Papillon can smell it on them. The air is thick with alpha pheromones mixing with the unwashed stink of sweaty overworked convicts in dirty clothes - he tries not to gag.

The dirt and rock dig into his knees, and he moves to cover his mouth and reposition himself but he cannot. He is bound in irons, chained to a metal plate in the ground. He struggles against his bonds until a familiar voice draws his attention to the front of the prison yard.

"Bring him out, boys!" The warden turns to the corridor to see the guards drag a naked man into the crowd. He is small and trembling, an iron collar around his neck to cover up his mate's mark.

 _Louis_.

He is fastened to a post where he writhes on the ground, feverish and sick with heat. Dega tries to pull against the rope holding him to the post, but it only digs deeper into his wrists. He cries out in pain, which only seems to excite the crowd. He sweats profusely, and Papillon can tell he is fighting against all instincts to sit up on his knees and present himself to the alphas growling and growing aroused by his scent. The only thing holding them back are the gun-toting guards who stand at the edges of the crowd.

The warden raises his hand over the crowd, silencing them momentarily.

"Now, who would like to have a go with this pretty little thing?"

"Help me," Dega begs, sobbing. The desperate plea spurs Papillon into action, and he pulls aggressively against his chains, the metal plate in the ground barely budging. It only seems to excite the crowd more.

"Oh no, we cannot have that," the warden says, standing beside Dega's shaking body.

He motions for a guard to come to him. He hands off a handkerchief which the guard promptly takes. Papillon watches as the handkerchief is fastened around Dega's mouth, powerless to stop them from tormenting his mate. If he were able to break free of his bonds, he would rip them all apart, starting with Warden Barrot. The warden raises his hand over the crowd again.

"On my signal, boys," he says, the alphas snarling and snapping at each other in competition for the heatsick omega. The warden drops his hand and the guards drop their guns to a resting position in unison, giving the alphas permission to attack. 

 _No_.

The alphas swarm in like a pack of wolves, dragging and pulling and pushing each other out of the way to get to the front to claim their prize.

“Louis!”

“Wake up!”

“Louis!”

"Wake up, Papi!" Dega shakes his shoulder desperately. "Stop shouting!"

Papillon kicks and shoves, and Dega has to fight to keep his hands from scratching at him.

"Stop, do you want to draw attention to us?" The sun is coming up, which means the guards will be arriving shortly to do their rounds, making sure everyone is put to work and removing the dead. If any time of day was the least convenient to make a scene, it would be the early morning. Yet another thing to drive Papillon to paranoia over his family's safety.

"It's okay, Papi! It's okay," he soothes, his scent washing over his mate. After a few more jerks and much hyperventilating, Papillon goes still in his mate's embrace. He savors the connection, letting himself go limp.

"Fuck." He pulls Dega down to breathe into his neck. "You're here."

"That, I am."

 

* * *

 

Papillon was not always drawn to omegas.

To tell the truth, he was not very fond of them. I was not a prejudice, he tells himself. It was a matter of his own survival. In his line of work, it was important to be discreet so to speak, but all discretion was thrown out the window once an alpha caught the scent of an alluring omega. He has seen it before from wealthy clients, caving to expensive omega escorts who rat them out for their own gain or their own protection. It always ended badly. He could not afford to take those kinds of risk - not with someone he could end up being bound to for life by some passionate accident. For that reason, he only messed around with betas or with alphas, like himself. 

The one consolation, he thought upon being sentenced to prison, was that he would not have to bother with omegas ever again. He did not know much about omega convicts, other than there were none that he knew of in the prison system. It was easy enough for them to play the innocent victim to a cruel alpha, getting them off the hook. In the event that an omega was ever found guilty, he was unsure of what was done to them by the court of law but on the streets he knew that a guilty omega was a dead omega. Regardless, there was no way in hell they would send an omega to work in one of the most notorious prisons on earth.

"Louis Dega," Julot says, emphasizing the "Dega" to sound eccentric and high brow.

They stand in line, waiting to receive their uniforms. Louis Dega does not fit in with the majority of those standing in line with them. His hair is combed perfectly, held in place with pomade. His skin is smooth with no visible scars or tattoos. His body screams money, drawing the attention of Tribouillard - a hulking alpha who could easily snap Dega in half if he wanted to. Papillon overhears his threat to cut Dega open for his money. 

Papillon heard about Dega in the news. He was a wealthy beta, sentenced to prison after being convicted of forgery. Of course, it had to be something so scandalous, but ultimately non-violent. Betas were like that, cheating the system they created to gain even more prestige than they already had. Hell, Papillon cheated and stole, too, but there was a reason an alpha like him was accused of and convicted for murder. It fit the narrative of what he was supposed to be. At least his crime did not alienate him amongst the men around him, unlike Dega.

Dega was not well liked in the papers, but his wealth made him immensely popular amongst the prisoners for all the wrong reasons. Oh, how unprepared the beta looks for what is to come. Papillon could capitalize on this, though. If anyone has the means to fund an escape from the prison, it would be Dega. Papillon was itching to escape.

Unfortunately, his first attempt to make a deal with Dega is a failure.

The man is suspicious of him the instant Papillon offers his protection. Part of him does not blame Dega. The man has already been approached multiple times by strange men, all looking for the same thing. None of those men were Papillon, though. None of them could fight like Papillon could fight. None of them could outwit Papillon. He just had to prove that to Dega. So, he waits, watching Dega's every move to find the right moment to show just how valuable he could be. The right moment comes when Tribouillard approaches Dega with a shiv in the middle of the night, unaware that Papillon is watching him too.

Papillon attacks the giant alpha, arousing everyone from their slumber and causing a great commotion. Dega backs himself into a corner, surprised by the attack. The look on his face tells Papillon that Dega will reconsider his offer. The whole ordeal lands Papillon in solitary, hogtied. It would be the first of many visits to solitary thanks to Dega's pretty little ass. It would not be so horrible if Dega was not so fucking ungrateful about, making Papillon's blood boil.

Dega complains about Papillon's ability to protect him, tied up in solitary - never mind that no man will come near him on the ship now that he has allied himself with the strong alpha. Dega taunts him with food, flaunting what control he has over Papillon and Papillon is not about to have some rich boy beta thinking he owns him just because he's literally full of money. Papillon is the only man standing between Dega and a blade. He better watch out or Papillon will gut him himself.

When he is released, he decides he will teach the man a lesson. He grabs Dega by the neck in warning, using his special tone of voice to dominate the man.

"If you keep talking down to me," He whispers, close to his ear. "I'll cut you open and take your fucking money." 

His nose is inches away from Dega's neck, picking up something slightly off about his scent.

He thinks nothing of it at the time, chalking it up to some expensive cologne that reminds him of the girlfriend he will probably never see again. It arouses him slightly, but he does not think much of that either. Most of the men here were hungry or horny or both. Being cramped on a damn ship for days without any ability to get off in more ways than one would do that to any man. This rich bitch's cologne was simply a reminder of his woman back home.

It was nothing more than that.

 

* * *

 

The trouble with Dega is that there is more than meets the eye. 

It takes some time for Papillon to piece together, but when he does he feels stupid and angry all at the same time for picking the one person in prison who could drag him down.

It starts with the little things that make him wonder why everyone seems fixed on Dega. Yes, he was wealthy and it was obvious that Dega's wealth put a big target on his back - but he was surely not the only man with money on him, and with Papillon to protect him it was amazing how men were drawn to him anyways despite the risk. 

Men follow Dega with their eyes wherever they go. Sometimes, with their hands as well. Papillon has to bat them away to keep Dega untouched. It was curious that they all seemed to want _more_. Like they wanted to feel him. Maybe bend him over into the mud. Fuck him, like he was some kind of bitch in heat. 

Papillon rolls his eyes.

 _They really must be desperate_.

The thought serves as a distraction from the unfortunate fact that Papillon has been grappling with since they landed. He is ashamed to admit it to himself, but he fights the urge to want to fuck Dega, too. He does everything he can to ignore it, but it does not help that protecting Dega becomes exhausting and tedious and Dega curls into his side at night, his knees brushing up against his thigh as he sleeps. The smell coming off of him is intoxicatingly sweet in a way that does not suit their environment. Convicts like them were supposed to smell awful, and most of them did. Dega was supposed to smell awful, too, but hard work and sweat made it worse - wonderfully worse, in the sense that Papillon feels aroused by it. He avoids touching Dega, pushing him away while he slumbers and thinking unsavory things to keep himself from tenting in his pants.

He was with Dega for the money and the money alone. Anything else would unnecessarily complicate things. There was no reason to be this wound up from a beta like him.

Except, Dega is not who he thinks he is.

It all comes to a head when they are in the showers.

The water washes over Dega. He scrubs his naked chest and belly with soap, removing every last bit of evidence of his old life as a neat, well-coifed forger dripping in luxurious colognes he could afford with the fake money he made, along with the dirt and grime he had accumulated over the course of his prison stay. It left him raw and brand new, his natural scent coming off of him in waves, attracting the attention of multiple alphas who have been waiting for the opportunity to jump him for days. Dega does not notice them, unused to a life of pure survival, but Papillon knows what they are up to and he prepares himself for the first strike. 

He fights with everything he has, flying into a blind rage with the beating he delivers to the alphas who try to corner and threaten Dega. He does not register the pain from each punch he takes, nor from the shallow slashes across his skin from their shivs until after each alpha is incapacitated, laying on the muddy ground bloody noses and broken teeth. When it is over, he does not know what came over him. He walks it off, the realization hitting him that his alpha instincts kicked in for him. They kicked in for Dega.

Fuck. The worst part about all of this was that it was no longer about the money.

He could not control himself around Dega. He could not control himself around other men around Dega. There was no fucking way some random beta could have that much power over him. That could only mean one thing.

Dega follows behind him, shaken by the incident, adding to Papillon's frustration. He reaches out to touch Papillon, asking if he is okay.

"Don't fucking touch me!" Papillon yells, and Dega takes a step back submissively.

That night, Dega whispers confessions to Papillon, half-hoping that the alpha would be too tired to take out any residual anger on him.

Confessions that he did not know how bad it could be.

Confessions that he does not think he will survive for much longer.

Confessions that he needs to leave with him.

Confessions that he is getting low on suppressants, confirming after a beat...

"Papi, I am only telling you this because you are the only man I can rely on," Dega whispers, "I'm an omega."

 

* * *

 

The sky crackles above them and rain pours over the ruins of Devil's Island as night falls.

Henri cries loudly, frightened by the loud booming thunder above them. Dega shushes him gently, holding the baby in his lap and rubbing his back. The scene makes Papillon's chest hurt and he would wrestle the sky itself if it meant bringing peace to his child. He has grown quite fond of the little boy, mourning the year of bonding he had lost with his child while he was in solitary confinement. He tries to make up for it by spending as much time with Henri as he can. Papillon peals a banana and mashes it in his washed hands for the baby to eat. For a moment, Henri's cries die down into a series of sniffs and hiccups, tremors easing into shaky breaths in his tiny chest.

Henri picks up a bit of mashed banana with his little fingers and brings it to his mouth. He chews the soft food for a minute with his gummy mouth.

"Mmm!"

It makes Papillon grin happily.

"Is that good, my little man?"

Henri giggles and Dega rests his head above the boy's curls, looking fondly at Papillon. Suddenly, Papillon feels shy and self conscious about his softness around his son.

"What?"

Dega leans over to kiss him, and Papillon deepens the kiss, cupping his jaw.

"Ah! Fuck!" Dega shouts, grabbing at his chest.

"What is it?" Papillon jerks back, surveying his mate. "Did I do something wrong?" 

"Henri, no!" Dega pulls pinching baby hands away from his nipple. Henri whines, displeased.

"Alright! Enough with that!" Dega sighs, unbuttoning and opening his shirt to allow Henri to feed from his swollen nipple.

Feeding their son puts on display the very fact that Dega is an omega, and the way that Henri demands Dega's attention puts on display the very fact that Henri can be no one else's son but Papillon's. There is nothing about either of those things they could possibly continue to hide. The thought makes Papillon anxious. If all he had to think about was himself, he would have jumped off that cliff in a heartbeat. All he can think about is how to get his mate and son off the island, but every plan he concocts in his head leaves him with nightmares of what could happen if everything went wrong. Every single one puts his mate and his child at risk.

"You look bothered, Papi."

"I'm afraid I don't know how to protect you anymore, my love," Papillon admits. It is a difficult admission for him to make.

"I think you need to accept that there is no easy way out of this." Dega tries to console him. "You are always one to act first and think later. Perhaps you will do better to get to know your way around before you make any plans."

Dega continues to feed Henri, who begins to fall asleep against him.

"Maybe you are right."

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With his heat approaching, Dega and Papillon try to come up with a plan to handle it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than usual, but I'm back! Thanks for being patient with me.

Dega wipes the sweat from his brow. 

The sky above is cloudy with a little breeze winding through the garden, suggesting a cool temperature, but in actuality it is sweltering and humid to Dega. 

Most of his life, he had worn his shirts crisp, clean, and buttoned all the way to the top. A part of him enjoyed being neat and orderly, which came in handy while working with wealthy clients. Another part of him, admittedly, wanted to hide the fact that he was an omega as much as possible by showing as little skin as he could - particularly around his neck, to not give off any hint of pheromones or to avoid enticing any alphas. In his line of work, it would not do if he was not seen as the wealthy well-established beta that he pretended to be. So, he dressed conservatively like them despite what discomfort it brought during the warmest months.

He hasn't worn a proper button up since arriving on Devil's Island. Yet, it does not stop him from attempting to loosen the already stretched and worn collar of his shirt. For some reason, his clothes feel impossibly tight. They stick to his skin, and Dega feels suffocated by the collar around his neck even though it hangs rather loosely from his shoulders. He takes his shirt off and throws it to the ground to lie amongst the vegetables in the garden. He wipes his brow again and again, and removes his glasses to wipe away the sweat that has dripped down into his eyes with the back of his hand, but there is no relief. A hand touches his shoulder, and Dega jerks away as if stung by an insect, his skin almost too sensitive to the touch.  

"You doin' okay, son?" Oscar asks. The old man had a soft spot for him, always checking in whenever he felt troubled. 

Dega does not answer.

Noting that Oscar did not seem bothered by the weather, he looks around the garden to see how the others are fairing with the heat. The men work slowly, planting and harvesting and feeding the animals, but there is no sign of sweat on any of them. 

"Shit," Dega mutters, barely audible to Oscar or anyone else around him. He picks his shirt off from the ground and turns to walk - or rather limp, back to his room. As he enters the ruins, he picks up his pace hobbling painfully to stand before the brick.

"Shit. _Shit_."

He runs his hands along the brick, feeling for a loose block. One block moves slightly as he presses against it, and Dega grips it with the tip of his fingers, easing it out from the wall. It reveals a hidden compartment behind it that holds a small jar. In that small jar is something very important to Dega.

"What do you have there, my love?"

The question startles Dega, his heart beating fast. He turns to see Papillon who is holding their son. 

"Shit, you scared me," Dega gasps, holding a hand to his chest. 

"Oscar told me you weren't feeling well," Papillon walks over to where he is standing in front of the brick and he reaches his free hand into the compartment to pull out the small jar. Their son tries to grab it, but Papillon holds it just out of reach, frustrating the little boy. He shakes the jar, and an obviously dwindling number of white pills rattle inside of it. The sound makes Henri giggle, quieting any upset he felt.

“Suppressants?” Papillon asks. 

“Yes,” Dega says, swiping the small jar from Papillon's hand. He hastens to open it. When he does so, he quickly downs a single pill dry. Then he leans against the brick, which are cool on his back, waiting for the pill to work. Slowly but surely, his entire body begins to cool as well and the sensitivity disappears. He holds the jar out in front of himself. 

Three. 

There are three pills left. 

Before he was incarcerated, he took a single pill every week to calm his heat symptoms just enough to masquerade as a beta. He was not usually one to forget to take them, but should he be late in doing so the heat would often start out like this - uncomfortable warmth throughout his body, but manageable to a degree. Then it would progress to sensitivity and cravings of a sexual nature.

When he had arrived at the prison, his now ex-wife had arranged to send him more, labeled as something else entirely that the doctor would administer to him weekly. All pills and money stopped, though, when she began her affair with his lawyer, forcing Dega to ration what he had. He ran out days before their last escape from the mainland, feeling stupid for not doing a better job at keeping track of his heat cycle and rationing wisely. His inability to do so during such a crucial time cost two men their lives, and put Papillon in solitary for years. At least, that is what he tells himself.

It also resulted in the beautiful baby boy before him, holding onto his papa. He loves his son dearly, but he feels conflicted by his regret over the situation. He would have never chosen it to happen the way it did, but it was beyond his control now. After carrying and giving birth to their son, he has not had to take very many pills. At least that was true until Papillon arrived on Devil's Island. With his mate in such close proximity, his body is yearning to be bred again like a tugging deep in his gut, but it is something that he just cannot allow. He finds he has needed to take two pills every week to calm the onset of heat or else he will become sick with it, and if his heat sickness goes on for too long there is no turning back from it no matter how many pills he takes.  

"I fear I am getting dangerously low on these," Dega says, his anxiety coming through in his voice. He can see his mate struggle to come up with comforting words, likely stressed himself by the whole thing. He bounces Henri in his arms to distract himself from the severity of their predicament.  

"When does the doctor come?" He offers, trying to come up with some sort of solution to ease the tension in the room.

"He will be here two weeks from now."

"You can get more from him, yeah?" Papillon eyes the jar of three pills, then looks back at Dega. "You should have enough until then, right?" 

Dega does not have the heart to tell Papillon that his return has made his heats worse. With fourteen days, he will be lucky if he makes it on only three pills instead of four. Perhaps fate will have mercy on him. He will try not to think about it too much until the time comes. 

"Right."

* * *

 

Week One

 

* * *

  

Day I

 

Dega marks the date on the wall in a single charcoal line drawn on an empty brick. There are other bricks with charcoal lines - a prison sentence cliché, but it is more than that.

Papillon traces those lines with his fingers and counts them when he cannot sleep and he is unable to move freely with his mate and his son curled up against him. 

When he asks his mate about them, running his index finger over those black tally marks, Dega averts his gaze to the ground and barely mutters "guess."

Papillon comes to the conclusion that his mate is too shy to admit that he counted out the days until their son's birth, which makes him fall a bit deeper in love with Dega. In every single one of those lines exists a day that his son grew inside of his mate who did everything in his power to keep him healthy and safe in one of the cruelest places on earth.

For that, he feels an immense sense of appreciation for his mate and the hardship he endured on his own and mourns the loss of each day he was not with Dega along the way. He delivers a kiss to Dega's neck, fully realizing what each mark means. A prideful part of him parades in his private thoughts, realizing too that he was the one to plant that seed inside of his mate. A selfish part of him wishes that he could do it all again to watch it grow, but it is not the place nor time to be thinking these thoughts out loud.

Still, a dangerous part of him wants it badly, but he cannot let emotion and desire get in the way of the safety of his family. So, he shoves these feelings down so as not to allow it to cloud his judgment. Their only focus right now should be preventing Dega from going into heat, and that could not be complicated by Papillon's urge to rut. 

 

Day II

 

"Like this," Dega says.

He takes Henri's little hand and dips it into a viscous mixture of plants resembling paint. Henri watches in wonder as the mixture coats his palm. Knowing his son, Dega holds his palm outward by the wrist so that Henri does not immediately put his little hand in his little mouth - not that it would hurt him, but he cannot imagine that the mashed plants taste very good. 

"And then," Dega places the child's palm on a banana leaf. Then, he demonstrates with his own hand how to press one's hand into the leaf to which Henri responds by trying his best to do the same by pushing his entire weight into the leaf. Dega lifts his hand away after a second or two to reveal an imprint on the banana leaf. "Voilà!"

"Woah!" Henri says, excitedly. He giggles in approval. 

In the quiet moments of midday, focusing time and attention on his son does wonders to distract Dega from other things. There are the daily stresses. The way his leg aches. His ongoing hunger. Then, there are _other things_ like the way Papillon looks at him when he is washing his body or feeding his son. An omega keeping their child close to their body at all times was usually a sign from nature to alphas that they were not interested nor ready for breeding. Dega found that this was true for the most part, as it has thus far kept his mate in check. However, it did not change the fact that his body still craved Papillon's touch and that one small touch could lead to another and another until his mate was spilling his seed inside of him again... and again... 

He cannot let that happen, even if the very idea of not being able to be that intimate with Papillon for the foreseeable future was an added torture of this place. 

 

Day III

 

Papillon stokes the small fire in the corner.

The night is cool, and Papillon can see the shivering outline of his mate's back as he lay on their makeshift bed holding tight to their son, likely to ensure he does not freeze. The days may be warm, but the temperature drops at sundown and it is not too comfortable to sleep surrounded by stone. 

It fills Papillon with an overwhelming urge to protect them.

He lays carefully beside his mate, resting his chest against Dega's back and bringing his arms around the man's small middle. Dega's body jerks in surprise but he does not fully wake. He only pulls their child closer to his body on instinct, causing the little boy to whine and fuss, pushing against Dega's chest and chin with his little fists to get some air.  

Noticing this, Papillon tries to give Henri more breathing room by loosening Dega's arms. Dega moans in protest, but Papillon soothes him by kissing his back and whispering sweet words into his ear.

_It is only me, my love. Rest easy._

In doing so, he catches something slightly different about his mate's scent and he resists the urge to plant his nose into his mate's skin again to drink it all in. His mate needs to rest, and he is not going to disturb that for his own gain.

 

Day IV

 

At dawn, Papillon wakes to the sound of Henri whining and fussing.

He decides to allow his mate to sleep some more and takes Henri for a walk to pick fruit to eat. He is able to pull Henri from Dega's grasp without the man stirring. As he is about to leave, he catches a glimpse of Dega shivering for a moment before curling further into the blanket of their messy bed and going limp. There is a bit of a chill in the early morning air, so he does not think much of it.

It is still very early, and not many people are around when he walks with Henri. The quiet gives him some peace, if only for a moment before Henri demands all of his attention.

His son is by far not an expert at walking on his own, but Papillon supports his weight by holding onto both hands and allowing Henri to step forward. The grass is wet on Henri's feet, which he does not seem to like very much judging by the way he tries to sit down on the ground with his toes pointing upward. 

"Come on, my silly little man," Papillon laughs, pulling Henri up by the arms, "We need to get you something to eat."

They arrive back to the prison ruins with a couple bananas Henri holds onto while Papillon carries him in his arms. His lazy son was not thrilled to continue walking all the way back, thus he gave up on making the little one try. When they arrive closer to their "home," there is a small commotion towards the entryway of the room. A familiar face stands in front pushing and shoving at a few of the men gathered around, yelling at them to "back off" and "get back to your business."

The scene fills Papillon with anger.

"What the fuck are you doing here?!"

The growl that comes out of Papillon's mouth cause the men to scatter, all except for Oscar who is largely unaffected. Oscar approaches Papillon carefully, knowing not to mess around with a pissed off alpha.

"Here. Let me take the boy," Oscar says, and Papillon trusts him enough to place Henri into his waiting arms. "I'll get the boy fed. You need to go take care of that."

Oscar nods his head in the direction of the interior. _Louis_. There must be something wrong with his mate, he thought, and his heart pounded in his chest as he cautiously stepped into the room.

His cock becomes aware of the situation before his brain can catch up, instantly stiffening against his leg.

"Fuck," Papillon breathes.

There on the floor, Dega lays stripped naked and curled up with one hand covering his face and the other moving rhythmically between his legs. His body shakes and shivers, and Papillon notes tears dripping down his cheek.

"Papi," Dega sobs. "H-help."

 

Day V

 

"I did not know it would come on so quick!"

"It has not yet been a week!" Papillon paces. "Not a single fucking week!"

His mate shrank away from him in submission, and Papillon almost felt bad.

 _Almost_.

He was reaching his limit of self restraint after having spent most of it the day before. 

He had to fight against all desire to strip naked himself and fuck his mate like a wild animal, the pheromones and Dega's pleas driving him mad. Instead, he frantically searched for the loose brick hiding Dega's pills. Upon finding it, he tossed the brick aside and hastened to remove the pill from its jar, fumbling a bit trying not to drop the glass onto the stone floor. With pill finally in hand, he shoved it down Dega's mouth and rubbed his throat as if he were some kind of dog while Dega kicked his feet and thrashed against him from the stimulation until his body slumped against his chest, passed out from the shock of it all. 

Dega slept for the rest of the remaining day and night, and Papillon stormed off to take care of the _other problem_ the whole thing had caused him, behind a forested area on the island farther away from his mate. The distance made his chest twinge, but he figured that the further away he was the better. He contemplated staying away for a bit longer, but he did not want to burden Oscar any more with the task of taking care of their son. When he returned, he wound up staying up with the old man to discuss all matter of things - anything to keep his mind off his mate, who he was having trouble not being furious with. Suspecting that there was tension between Papillon and Dega, Oscar offered to take care of Henri for a little bit longer. Papillon expressed his gratitude and headed back to confront his mate about everything, leading him to this point.

"When were you going to tell me about this?!"

 Dega stood silent. 

"You could have put yourself in danger!" Papillon yells, his voice increasing in volume. "You could have put our _son_ in danger!"

Dega flinches, giving Papillon pause.

Now.

Now, he feels bad. 

 

Day VI

 

Dega marks another day in charcoal on the wall. 

He picks up Henri, and quietly thanks Oscar for taking care of him with a basket of harvested vegetables and a few eggs from the chicken coop. He carries Henri in his sling, and sets out to gather more goods for their meals. The way some of the men look at him in the garden mortifies him. They smile awkwardly and wave at little Henri, but generally avoid eye contact with Dega. He tries to block out all images of what happened from his mind, but their discomfort makes it harder to ignore. His nerves are on fire, but he pushes the feeling down into his feet moving himself as far and as fast away from the garden as possible to be alone in the wood and overgrowth. He sits down, resting his back against a tree, closes his eyes and breathes. Henri pushes against him and moves himself back and forth, but Dega is too tired to keep him still.

It takes a moment before Dega realizes that Henri has actually wiggled free of him, and he has begun to waddle his way back out from the shade of the trees and overgrowth. Upon this realization, he tries to get up as quickly as he can but his leg cramps up and his hips ache. He pushes past the pain to catch up with his son, but when he enters the garden there's no sign of him. 

"Henri?"

Panic threatens to seize him. There are all sorts of things that his son could get into. He could hurt himself. He could wander too close to the cliffs. Papillon was already so angry with him - how could he face his mate if his son is missing? - or hurt? - or, if anything worse happened to his son he would surely throw himself over those cliffs. He stumbles through the garden nearly tripping over his feet back to the ruins, until he sees a mop of blond curls in the entryway. Henri. 

"Oh, thank god," Dega sighs heavily, picking up Henri who was sitting on the floor playing with a bug. The sound of boots on top of stone breaks his relief, and Dega rushes back to their 'home' just before the guards drop off a container of goods in the common area. Dega slides his back down to the floor. Henri makes a noise, and Dega covers his mouth to silence him until he hears the sound of boots retreating. 

"Damn me." 

Dega's lips tremble and tears form, but he wipes them away. Papillon returns with a stack of sticks and wood for the fire, which he drops on the floor. It reminds Dega that he left the basket of food he was carrying in the overgrowth when he went to look for Henri. He puts their son down on the floor and tries to lift himself up, but his entire body hurts from chasing after Henri. 

"Damn me."

He falls back to the floor with a pathetic whine. "Damn me!"

"Woah, woah," Papillon is at his side in an instant, with a hand on his shoulder to ease his back against the wall. "What's the matter, my love?"

Dega simply sobs, too tired to hold it back any longer.

"Why am I so fucking useless? Why?"

His mate brings his arms around him and pulls him to his chest. He heaves and sobs into Papillon's neck, covering his face with his hands. Papillon strokes his hair and rubs his back.

"I am sorry," Dega cries, "I am so sorry."

"No," Papillon shushes him, "There is nothing you should be sorry for. I love you. I should not have talked to you that way. I love you." 

 

Day VII

 

 

"Every day and night, I dream about taking you and our son away from here - another island where we can be free."

"Is that so?" Dega says, feeding their sleepy son. "Tell me about your dream island."

" _Our_ island is beautiful."

"Ah, our island."

"Yes, and it has a house. A proper house with a proper bed."

"Hmmn." Dega smiles wistfully. It has been a long while since he has slept in a proper bed.

"A bed for Henri of course."

"Of course."

"...and perhaps a couple more." Papillon smirks. 

"More?"

"Yes, in my dreams we always have a big family."

"I do not know if my body can manage that."

"Would you ever consider it?" Papillon risks asking. "I mean, if... we ever had a life like that?"

"Let's try our best to get through this next week without you impregnating me, and then we will talk," Dega sighs, sleepily.   


End file.
